


You Needn't Speak For I See

by HogwartsToAlexandria



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Character Study, Comfort, Eurus is trying, Gen, Introspection, POV Eurus Holmes, Sensory Overload, Sherlock Being a Good Brother, Sherrinford Visit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:13:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25496635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/pseuds/HogwartsToAlexandria
Summary: Sherlock keeps coming to see her, and Eurus holds on to that. She's sure he doesn't know quite how much nor why, but she does.
Relationships: Eurus Holmes & Sherlock Holmes
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33
Collections: Every Woman 2020





	You Needn't Speak For I See

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Trobadora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trobadora/gifts).



> Writing from Eurus' POV was a novel experience for me and I really hope it works for you dear recip!

There are no voices. No footsteps. No buzzes or even gusts of air. There are no noises whatsoever in her head before the ding of the elevator, faint, muffled by the thick door of her cell, echoes down the hallway beyond it and makes Eurus blink her eyes open. No more meditating for the day, or for a while, probably. 

She's heard it a dozen times now, the distinct melody of her brother walking towards her. That one time he came with Mycroft and John being the first, and then all the following ones when he came back alone, always alone. The time he brought their parents with him, Eurus has spent a lot of time analyzing, but can't seem to bring herself to care about them the same way she does Sherlock. 

Care? That sounds like quite a trivial word. A very Sherlock type of word, no matter how much of his strength he puts in believing he's not a creature of sentiment. 

Eurus smiles. Maybe she managed to prove him he was wrong there. She can't quite tell yet, in the way he still tries to play his violin stoically, rigid in his posture if not in his sensibility - again - of each accord. They haven't talked, or, Sherlock seems to think they haven't talked enough, she can see it every time he tries to ask her a question, the way his eyebrows tick up and inward, the way his fingers stutter along his hip. He asks something but really he wants to know an entirely different one. He doesn't know that though, but he's made quite clear he isn't interested in Eurus' idea of an awakening. 

It didn't really do her any good either the last time. Apart from managing the one thing she always meant to do, meet Sherlock again. 

It's interesting that Mycroft lets him come alone, she's reflected a few times. But then again, Eurus is sure Sherlock has some amount of practice when it comes to fooling Big Brother Mycroft. 

The door slides open behind her, and Eurus slowly turns to watch Sherlock get in. For once, he doesn't immediately shrug his Belstaff coat off. No, he watches her just inside the door. He doesn't say anything so Eurus is left reading the clues. 

It's not hard. Even if so far, they don't seem to make much sense. 

"Are you really taking me out, brother?" She asks after a while. 

Sherlock barely reacts, just a faint smirk of his lips jerking to one side that tells her she read him right. His motives are unclear though, and so is their destination. 

"Not far," Sherlock eventually tells her. 

"Why?" Eurus tilts her head to the side, squinting a tad. 

"The light here is positively ghastly." Sherlock quips back, and there it is, the real smile he's started giving her not too long ago. It's a mix between a proud and a pleased smile. Eurus isn't really able to form one quite like it and actually mean the sentiment behind it - but it's nice, she remarks. It  _ feels _ nice. "So, fancy it?" 

Eurus lets the silence settle a little between them, she likes staring at him, trying to read his thoughts as he's having them. It's always entertaining. Sherlock seems to accept it. 

"Will you ever tell me what you see?" He asks still, as Eurus finally walks closer and he turns back towards the door and knocks so the guard open it for them. 

"Err, don't hold your breath for that one,  _ brother mine _ ," she answers and delights in the surprise and instant scorn that passes over his features at her using Mycroft's favoured nickname. 

"You're right, I probably wouldn't enjoy it as much as I think," Sherlock muses, but by the time he says it, they've crossed the door and walked down the hallway to the elevator and he's pushing the button for the ground floor. 

Try as she might, Eurus can't block all the signals from the outside, she can't block all the signs and tells and sounds she hears and sees and notes even as she does her best to focus on Sherlock - first step towards nurturing the fragile discovery they're making of each other. 

It's still easy to see when Sherlock notices her trouble. He hesitates though, his hand first coming out of his coat pocket, his fingers wiggling at his side, before he finally leans to the side like he just thought of the possibility that perhaps...

"Can I?" He reaches for her own hand but doesn't take it. 

Eurus looks at the lines on his outstretched palm, glances at the thin scar she can see on his wrist - characteristic of a drug den souvenir - then she finds herself nodding. 

Sherlock takes her hand with a sigh escaping his mouth before turning back to face the elevator door. 

It doesn't mute the signals. But the contact with her brother does seem to redirect all the parasite information she doesn't need. Even after they step into the lobby and all the staff on hand watches them wide-eyed; even when they reach Sherlock's chosen destination and the wind pushes both their hair away from their faces, the cold, wet sand of the beach sinking under their feet with every step; even then, Eurus can still feel Sherlock's warmth the most.

"Take a deep breath with me." Sherlock whispers, almost too low for the noise of the waves crashing on Sherrinford's rocky flanks. 

She spends more time watching him than she does the horizon, but at least it's in a different light than usual, as he'd promised. 


End file.
